


woven and unwound

by raffinit



Series: with finesse and fervour; devour me [4]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Banshee!Sylvanas, Cunnilingus, Daughter of the Sea!Jaina, F/F, Fae Queen!Sylvanas, Fey AU, Light Bondage, Original Character(s), Sailor!Jaina, Tendrils, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-04-12 03:39:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19123822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raffinit/pseuds/raffinit
Summary: Vika shrugged, taking another mouthful of ale from her tankard. “So tie her down.”Jaina blinked. “Tie her down?”“Aye.”“Oh.”----On her return to Kul Tiras after months at sea, Jaina finds new ways to reacquaint herself with the Faerie Queen.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MarieAnne_Cormier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarieAnne_Cormier/gifts), [Zellk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zellk/gifts).



> This is long overdue and probs going to be 6-8k long so uh 
> 
> yeah

This was the longest time that Jaina had been home that she could remember. It had been years since she’d been able to spend this much time ashore without feeling the restless pull of the ocean under her skin. Still she travelled the waters; still, she was Daughter of the Sea, but she was no longer bound to the will and whims of the Sea Witch.

It was something she relished — that she could heed the call of the land as much as she did the sea.

There were times when she came ashore and did not touch Kul Tiran soil for days. There were times when sailors sang of the way The Winds Came Down and swept her away as soon as the Rose pulled into the bay.

Those days, her feet walked the grounds of the Winter Court.

When she emerged from the forest days after the Rose had made port, Vika bade the Captain a welcome home with a hearty tankard of ale and a warm meal from the tavern.

“So,” Vika said that night, amidst the cheery rounds of shanties and jaunty Kul Tiran tunes. “Nice to see you’ve finally come up for air.”

Jaina rolled her eyes amiably, savouring the heady taste of ale on her tongue. “I haven’t been gone that long,” she said. “Time passes differently in the faerie realm. I feel like I’ve barely been gone a few hours.”

“It’s been days.” Vika grinned. “I’m surprised you’re still in one piece, at this point,” she drawled, leering at the parted collar of Jaina’s shirt; the darkened bloom of bruises peeking through amidst the white.

Blushing deeply, Jaina tugged her collar back into place, fingers brushing against the polished steel and wood of her pendants. There were nights when the Banshee Queen was not tethered to her so; some nights such as the ones she spent in the taverns and on the Rose when she liked the quiet of her own mind and space. “We just haven’t seen each other in a while,” she said, draining the last of her ale and gesturing to the barkeep for another.

“Yes, when Ellos and I spend time apart, we welcome each other home with an embrace...and _maul each other_.”

“I am well aware,” Jaina drawled, eyeing Vika appreciatively. “It took weeks for the last few bruises to heal the last time I had you both in bed with me.”

Vika made a show of gesturing grandly as she inclined her head in a bow. “I but live to please you, O Captain.” The crooked grin on her face was as smug as it was amused. “Though I suppose it’s an entirely new experience when there are _fangs_ and _talons_ involved.”

Fluttering her lashes sweetly at Vika, Jaina cooed, “Don’t be jealous, dear. It’s unbecoming.”

Laughing heartily, Vika lifted her tankard in a toast, ale sloshing over the rims as the tankards clunked together. They drank and ate and spoke of the idle tales of the village; sharing gossips from one land to the other. At times, a tavern patron or two came by to pay their respects and bid a song or two from the Daughter of the Sea. Jaina obliged them happily, and before long the tavern was full of the bellows of men and women that sang of The Daughter’s Velvet Rose and Away The Tides Did Blow.

Before long, Jaina and Vika found themselves sprawled into a booth, breathless and flushed from a round or two of jigs atop the bar. Collapsed back into Vika’s arms, Jaina laughed and sighed contentedly, burying her face briefly into the other woman’s neck. The familiar scent of perfume and sweat on tan skin made her nuzzle in closer, breathing in deeply.

Vika’s arms came around her, squeezing fondly. Tilting her head down and nuzzling against golden hair, Jaina heard her voice rich and low, “Haven’t you had your fill, Captain? This is but five tankards in; you’re getting lightweight.”

With laughter on her breath, Jaina turned her face inwards and pressed her lips against the warm, damp plane of Vika’s neck. It was no more than a kiss, chaste and sweet — and then she opened her mouth and nipped.

Grinning at the hitch of breath, Jaina’s words were mumbled against the rapidly fluttering pulse. “Perhaps I just missed you.” Daringly, she slid one hand along Vika’s thigh, squeezing the muscles there appreciatively.

A hand reached down to lay over hers, squeezing softly before sliding her touch away. Jaina pouted and huffed, sitting up enough to peer into Vika’s face.

“Has your lady love not been generous enough?” Vika teased her.

Jaina sat up fully, leaning back against the booth as she slid her legs around to face Vika. With the flush of drink warm in her cheeks and the boldness of it loosening her tongue, she said, “She’s perfect. Perfectly good. Terrible only in how generous she is.”

Vika chuckled. “And that bewilders you?”

“I’d like to be generous the same,” she huffed.

Humming, Vika reached out to drain the last of her ale, and with the taste of it wet on her lips and tongue still, she leaned down to kiss Jaina. Languid and deep, with the sweeping touches of a lover long-held, until a ragged whimper pulled from the Daughter of the Sea.

Jaina sank one hand into the gossamer cloth of Vika’s tunic, pulling back to peer up at her with ale-glazed eyes.

She tightened her grip, tugging Vika closer. “Again.”

Cocking a brow, Vika reached out to trace her thumb over Jaina’s flushed lips. “Are you feeling _generous_ , Captain?”

“Kiss me again and find out.”

Barking out a laugh, Vika cast a furtive glance over her shoulder before crowding the Captain further into the booth. With her lips close enough for Jaina to taste the ale on her tongue and her dark eyes bright and hungry, she whispered, “Hold on.”

Jaina grinned as she was pressed into the furthest wall of the booth, shrouded from view by its high walls. The flushed spread of her skin ignited into a flame, her eyes hooding low and greedy as Vika’s deft fingers slid beneath the waist of her breeches. The first touch of callused fingers cupping her sex made Jaina gasp sharply, arching eagerly into them as Vika covered her body from sight. She shivered and muffled her moan behind a fist as two fingers teased over the bud of her clit, circling in the way she liked best.

“Ah!” She fisted Vika’s tunic in her grasp as the fingers quickly found their way inside her, guided by the rush of wetness that had built since the kiss. She wrapped both arms around strong shoulders, muffling her sounds and sucking viciously into the dark lines of the tattoo that marked the nape of the other woman’s neck. Amidst each panting breath, she pressed greedy lips against the sharp cut of Vika’s jaw, nuzzling against the side of the tattooist’s face before moaning breathlessly.

The sharp clip of teeth nipped at Jaina’s ear. “Save that siren song for your Queen,” Vika cooed, the corded muscles of her shoulders and arm working in time with the deep and precise thrusts of her fingers. “Can’t have people hearing us, can we?”

Jaina pressed her own teeth against the taut line of Vika’s neck and bit down. She lapped her tongue against the frenetic pulse there and savoured the familiar taste of salt and the sea as the fingers inside her curled hard against the grooves of her inner walls. Stars bloomed behind her eyelids as she swallowed back a whimper.

“Hush,” Vika whispered, grasping Jaina’s waist and coaxing the desperate grind of her hips. “Don’t you want to come, Captain?”

“Tides, you’re too g-good at this,” Jaina hissed, gasping as her walls began to squeeze down mercilessly tight around Vika’s fingers.

Vika chuckled lowly, pulling back enough to kiss her deep and slow. “I had a wonderful teacher.”

Her clit pulsed and ached in time with each frantic beat of her heart, brushing torturously against the coarse material of her breeches. The friction was almost enough to _hurt,_  and yet she chased each whispering touch of it as Vika’s thumb kept its unforgiving pace on her clit.

She opened her mouth to hiss a command, but all her throat could make was a gasp.

Vika’s fingers drove in with a strength that made her nerve endings spark; the thumb on her clit bore down with brutal intent, and Jaina could barely find the thought to breathe. The world washed away with a roar like the crashing waves against the cliffs, swallowed by pleasure that made her ears ring and her vision blur. It was all she could do to cling to Vika’s shoulders, fisting the thick cords of hair as she rode through each trembling wave of her release.

An arm wound around her waist, squeezing tight as Vika held her pinned in place, soothing the tremors that wracked her body with low, filthy words and gentle kisses.

When at last the ringing in her ears calmed and her vision steadied, Jaina blinked back the stars and shivered when Vika’s fingers pulled out, mewling softly at the jolt of pleasure that came after. Through the heady glaze of sex and drink, she watched as the hand materialised from between her legs, fingers glistening in the light of the pub.

Vika hummed, peering at her slick fingers and grinning smugly. Her dark eyes snapped to Jaina’s and held there as she licked each one clean. She hummed approvingly. “I’ve certainly missed the taste of you.”

“Fuck,” Jaina said, a breathless laugh in her chest as she pulled Vika down for a slow, deep kiss. She swept their tongues together to savour the taste the same, moaning softly as she pulled away. Swiping her thumb over Vika’s glossy lips, she grinned. “It’s my turn.”

Puffing out a soft laugh, Vika shook her head. “Another time, Captain. I’ll have my way with Ellos when we finish here.”

Jaina huffed quietly and pouted, but obliged her. In such a public space, it was only inevitable that they’d draw attention. “Perhaps I might join you then.”

“And risk angering the Banshee herself? I’d prefer to keep all of my limbs, thank you,” Vika said, though she lifted Jaina’s hand to her lips and pressed a kiss along the upturned palm of it. With a gentle pat and a smile, she settled in deeper into the booth, waving a hand up at the barkeep.

Consumed still within the hazy warmth of drink and a slowly calming lust, Jaina sat back in the booth beside Vika, their thighs pressed together still. When the fresh tankards came, she clasped it in her hand and drank until the room swam a little deeper into it. She swallowed and wiped her lips on the back of a hand, glancing sidelong when a shoulder nudged against hers gently.

“What’s got your drawers in such a twist, then?” Vika said, gentle amidst the din. “Can’t get the Queenie to play nice?”

Scowling faintly, she gave Vika’s side a pinch. “Don’t call her that. And she’s fine. She plays perfectly well.”

“And yet?”

Sighing, Jaina reached for the tankard again and took a hearty swig. Lowering it back onto the table, she tapped her fingers against its rim thoughtfully, gnawing on the edge of her lip and tasting Vika there still. With a slow breath, she said carefully, “What are the ventures one might take...to play a game of _obedience_ with a being as mighty as...say, a faerie queen?”

Vika tilted her head. “... _obedience_?”

Jaina wrinkled her nose. Perhaps not the wisest choice of words. How many tankards had she drunk? “To persuade her to be... _amenable_...to my whim?”

“...you mean you can’t get her to let you fuck her?”

Jaina scowled, glaring at her sidelong. “In so many words.” Sighing, she took another swallow of ale and fiddled the edges of her pendants. “I just want to be able to treat her as she treats me. I know a Queen bows to no one, and I’m not expecting her to, but I’d like for us to have some nights when it isn’t about _me_.”

Vika shrugged, taking another mouthful of ale from her tankard. “So tie her down.”

Jaina blinked. “Tie her down?”

“Aye.”

“Oh.”

“Y’mean you’ve never thought —”

“She’s the _Faerie Queen_ , Vika,” Jaina said in exasperation. “I’m not just going to waltz in there and bind her.”

Shrugging, Vika said, “So ask her. Have the woods help. I don’t know. Strike a bargain with her. You know how that part works, at least.” She gave Jaina a discerning look, pretty lips pulling into a wicked smirk as she brought the tankard up to her mouth again.

A warm flush rose up from her chest up along her neck and bloomed into her cheeks. Jaina took a hearty mouthful of ale the same to wash away the heat in her belly. “I shouldn’t have told you about that,” she muttered darkly.

“‘Tis only a game,” Vika chuckled. “What are the fae if not masters of such a thing? It’s not as if you truly wish to tame the Queen of the Lands.”

“Not ‘tame’,” Jaina protested. “She’s not a creature to master. I only want her to... _relax_.”

Jaina had taken lovers before. It was part and parcel with the wandering ways of a sailor, and she who was Daughter of the Sea had never found herself wanting for bedmates. She had lain with men and women alike — sometimes both at once. Tides, she had lain with the _Sea Witch_!

Though Azshara was an arguably _thorough_ lover; the Queen of the Seas was not one to be made to bend to Jaina’s will.

The fae were no beings of power to scoff at, but the Banshee Queen was one of a particular...constitution. She was a generous lover in every sense of the word, and though she tried to indulge Jaina’s desires of laying her on her back and holding her by the worship of hands and lips, the Faerie Queen was not content to remain that way for long.

The dedication and worship Jaina experienced at the hands (and mouth, and other assorted _ethereal parts_ ) of the Banshee Queen were exhilarating, no doubt. But Jaina wanted a fair turn all the same.

A warm hand slid over her wrist, and Jaina twitched at the touch, glancing down at where Vika’s long fingers stroked idly along her skin.

“Try it,” Vika urged her. “You already have her wound around your fingers.”

“And if she refuses?”

A slow smirk formed on Vika’s face, and she raised a hand to summon a barmaid again. “I’ve never known you to back down from a challenge, Captain. I’m honestly surprised it’s taken you this long to have your way with her.”

Jaina rolled her eyes mildly. “Telling an ancient being of power to get on her knees for me is entirely different than saying it to a mouthy brat in need of reprimanding.”

Vika shrugged. “Her loss.”

 

\------

 

When the ale had run dry and the room began to sway, Jaina and Vika made for the Rose. Staggering in the ways of those with one pint too many warming their bellies and the hearty songs of the sea on their tongues.

On the rise of the morning sun, Jaina chased away the curse of a well-drunk night with a hearty breakfast before winding a familiar path into the woods. The early dawn spilt across the glen in a gilded blanket of warmth, and Jaina turned her face into its rays as she came upon the treeline.

“Good morning,” she said, and the leaves rustled overhead sleepily. “I know she isn’t here, but I came to see you.”

The woods leaned on ancient roots and creaked with intrigue.

Jaina laughed quietly and reached out to lay a hand on sun-kissed bark. Leaning in as one would when sharing mischief, she whispered conspiringly, “I have something I’d like your help with.”

 

\------

 

Beneath the light of the gibbous moon, Jaina waited by the faerie ring. Through the misting twilight and the fluttering sparks of fireflies, the trees pulled together into a looming alcove of privacy; moonlight spilling through the leaves in long, elegant beams.

Overhead, the leaves rustled mildly. Jaina looked up into the green, stroking one hand along the closest bark. “It’ll be alright. She’ll say yes.”

The rustling took on a dubious note, and on the next bristle of leaves, Jaina felt something fall gently atop her head. Blinking, she reached up and untangled it from her hair, peering down at her hand curiously. Her eyes widened and she laughed.

An oaknut.

“You’re not even an oak tree!” she accused it, smiling as the breeze jittered the branches and teased the edges of her hair. Crouching by its knotted roots, she stroked one hand along the ridged whorls of its bark as she returned the oaknut back to the earth. “There,” she said, patting down the mound of rich, dark soil and rising to her feet. “Now you’ll grow as mighty as She Who Guards This Land.”

“ _Such flattery even in my absence, dearest one_.”

Jaina whirled around, startling as she came face-to-face with the Banshee Queen all but looming over her already. “Tides!” she gasped, bracing her hands against the Queen’s chest armour and smacking it reproachfully. “I hate that you can still _do_ that!”

Eyes sparkling in the twilight, the Banshee Queen peered down at her, smiling her feline smile as she leaned down beneath the shade. “I thought you liked surprises,” she said, and stole Jaina’s lips for a kiss.

“Not ones that scare the soul out of me,” Jaina mumbled, leaning up onto her tiptoes to chase the Queen’s lips. She sighed against the familiar cool mouth, tasting forged steel and starlight as she reached up to stroke her fingers over the shimmering hood of the banshee’s cloak. A soft tug revealed a crown of hair so fair it gleamed silver in the moonlight.

She stared up at the Queen with the same wonder and awe she always did; caressing the long, elegant taper of ears that shivered with delight at her touch. Jaina smiled faintly, sliding her hand through the silken threads of hair instead, coiling the ends of them around her fingers.

With a smooth glide forward, the Queen had her pinned against the sturdy bark. Powerful hands gloved in leather began to stroke along the swell of her hips, tugging coyly at the lacing of her breeches. “So, my fair one,” she purred, and Jaina did not resist the temptation of arching into her touches. “Will you whisper to me the same flatteries?”

A cool pair of lips pressed against her neck, mouthing along the underside of her jaw with the familiarity of the long-entwined. Jaina sighed and moaned with content, but was not so easily swayed from her intent.

“I have a request,” she said, swallowing back a hitch when the Queen’s fangs pressed teasingly over the rapid thrum of her pulse.

Humming with intrigue, the Queen pulled her lips away just enough to whisper against her skin. “What is it you would ask of me, my sweet one?”

“Your trust.”

A soft breeze whispered among the leaves, and a faint ripple of noise travelled down along the Banshee Queen’s back as smoky tendrils unfurled from her cloak. They teased and danced along Jaina’s calves and boots, flickering along the edges of her periphery. Elegant elven ears twitched and feline eyes sparked curiously. “And what is it you would do with my trust?”

Jaina ran her tongue along the edge of her lip and caught it between her teeth, noting the way the Queen’s eyes darkened at the sight. “Love you.”

“Do you not have it already?” the ethereal whisper came, and with it the rustling slither of tendrils. Each undulating length rippled further up along her hips, unfurling around her like silk in the water. The Queen loomed ever closer, blotting out what precious little moonlight there was left. The banshee leaned down, and perhaps Jaina arched upwards the same, sighing at the familiar touch of cool lips on her chest. “My trust and my love?”

Clutching along broad shoulders, Jaina hummed and sighed as the wandering mouth ventured boldly along the bare skin of her cleavage. “Then will you begrudge me if I asked to have you beneath me?” Daringly, she slid her own hands up along elongated, elegant ears. Grasping the base of them, she flexed and kneaded her touch along the slender lengths.

It was a subtle thing; minute, and barely a twitch and a stiffening of muscle. But as she who had the most intimate knowledge of the Banshee Queen’s body, Jaina knew it as hesitation. “...Is that what you’d ask of me, sweet thing? My submission?”

Jaina inclined her head. “Not submission,” she said; her hands had begun their familiar path along the Queen’s broad shoulders. “I wish for an opportunity...to _worship_.”

The Queen purred with intrigue. “ _Oh my_.”

A deft hand slid further along Jaina’s hip, and the Captain of the Sable Rose shivered at the touch of cold leather. “Tell me more,” the Banshee crooned, her amber eyes gleaming in moonlight.

With a low shuddering breath, Jaina murmured, “I wish —” her words hitched as the wandering hand slid even further up, nails scraping tantalisingly along the valley of her breasts. “I wish to have you lain bare for me. Bare and beneath me so that I may worship my most beloved.”

“And what else?” the Queen whispered, and they were moving then; guided by the ethereal mist and wonder until their feet were pressed against the blood-red of the faerie ring.

Jaina smiled at her sweetly, glancing around them. “Perhaps somewhere more private.”

The Banshee chuckled, eyes gleaming beneath her hood. “Your wish is my command, sweet Daughter.” She stepped backwards into the ring, and the world shimmered around her.

There was the familiar pull of the air around them; the pressure in Jaina’s ears like when she would dive into the deepest waters. The forest seemed to crumple down on them for an instant, an encompassing sensation of one Realm to the Other. The Queen moved, and it was as if her feet did not touch the grass as she stepped across the threshold of the ring.

As surely as she stepped onto the Rose, Jaina stepped into the ring the same.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not entirely pleased with how this finishes, but if i had my way it'd be a 20k piece about tendrils

Crossing the boundaries between their lands was always a sensation incomparable to any other that Jaina had ever experienced. Her first experience of the Other Realm had been jarring to a human form, but now it was almost as second nature to her as swimming beneath the waves. The pressure of the air against her body was like the caress of the sea; like the embrace of the Queen at the peak of moonlight and the darkest night.

As the forest came further down upon them, Jaina took a shuddering breath and closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, the forest around them had gone deathly still. Silent and still, but no eerier than before. It felt _alive_ in a way that Jaina knew she would never understand in its entirety, but she knew enough to love it regardless. The realm of the fae lived and breathed as any other living creature; a consciousness beneath the earth and hidden between the roots of each ancient tree.

The air around them seemed to sing, and peering around them, she said, “Will you make us a bed?”

The trees rustled and the roots groaned as they pulled themselves away from the earth and wound themselves together into a beautiful twining cradle of wood. Moss bloomed lush and dewy-scented over each knotted root, and Jaina smiled in appreciation. Spreading her hand out against the Queen’s chest, she moved them easily towards it.

“My,” the Faerie Queen chuckled, sliding one gloved hand along Jaina’s hold of her. “Aren’t we bold.”

Jaina smirked as they went down, kneeling carefully between the sprawled legs of her beloved. “Fortune favours the bold, does it not?” She hovered for a moment, keeping her splayed grip of the cool leather as she stared down at the Queen. With weight in her words, she asked, “Do you trust me?”

The Queen returned her gaze easily, a faint twitch of amusement on her lips. “My life is in your hands, little one. Do with me what you will.” Laid back against the moss, she pressed her hands back by her head; a halo of silver that glistened in moonlight.

Smiling softly, Jaina leaned down to kiss her. It was slow and deep and sweet; the kiss of lovers long-familiar, and as she swept her tongue over plush lips and took in the taste of cold steel and petrichor, she bade the forest to her whim.

The first twine of roots weaving around her wrist made the Faerie Queen stiffen, who pulled away enough from the kiss to glance down at her bound hands before meeting Jaina’s gaze with a droll look of her own. “You grow ever bolder, Sweetling.”

Smiling as sweetly as the endearment, Jaina settled more comfortably over a lean waist, stroking her hands up and down slowly over the fae Queen’s chest. “I hear no protests from you, my moonlit beauty.” She savoured the texture of buttery leather and finely-tooled steel for a moment before unravelling the fastenings of them impatiently.

A long brow arched elegantly as the Queen looked down to her other hand; now bound with more moss-layered roots. “How did you possibly persuade the woods to obey?”

“I have my ways,” Jaina breathed, leaning down to capture the taste of steel and stars and shadows again. Leather and steel finally gave way beneath her hands, and she hummed at the touch of cool, ethereal flesh.

Slipping her hands beneath the parted leather, Jaina cooed with delight as she caressed the soft weight of the Queen’s breast, cupping the weight of one briefly as stroking her thumb over the stiff bud of a nipple. She smiled at the low growl that came with her touch, and slid her hand further down over the lines of muscle that made up the tight core of the Faerie Queen’s being. “I still can’t believe it.”

“Believe what, sweet child? My compliance?” the Queen drawled.

Jaina smiled. “Perhaps. But more so that the Fates had seen it wise to grace me with such a blessing,” she murmured, bending down to press warm lips between cool breasts. “I could live a thousand lifetimes and I would never tire of seeing you.” She laved her tongue over a nipple, tracing over and around it before taking it into her mouth, and beneath her the Queen arched with a hiss, the roots groaning in protest.

She pulled away abruptly, hiding her smile into the parted leather armour.

“ _Tease_ ,” the Queen growled, and Jaina lifted her head to rest her chin against the heaving diamond of the banshee’s ribcage.

Dull human teeth scraped wickedly along taut muscle, and she grinned against the sharp flex of the Queen’s stomach. “I’ll never tire of touching you.”

A laugh like dancing chimes rose up into the leaves. “Ever skilled with that wicked tongue of yours, sweet thing.” The coy, lilting purr made Jaina’s eyes narrow slightly as she peered up over the length of the Queen’s body. Blazing amber eyes were already sparkling down at her; amusement and affection and something almost mocking that seemed to be the prevailing trait of most faeries. “I suppose this is where I ask you to put your words to work?”

“ _Behave_ ,” Jaina said, nipping sharply along the underside of one breast.

The Queen jerked at the touch of her teeth, but made no witty rejoinder. She smiled then and ran her tongue soothingly over the bite. It was a slow and deliberate thing; Jaina kissed and caressed and trailed her lips and fingers along every inch of bared flesh before her, mouthing along the plane of muscle that made up the length of the Queen’s powerful form. It was by no means pristine skin; there were scars and wounds that had carved deep into flesh — some old, and some too painfully fresh. Places where arrows and blades had left their memory; chains made of iron that had burned into the Queen’s skin from the times when men had only wicked aims to tame her.

She pressed her lips against the newest scar; an encompassing, monstrous thing that would’ve rightly cleaved a mortal in half. Tracing her tongue over the jagged edge of it, Jaina sighed and allowed herself to rest her forehead against the Queen’s stomach.

“Sylvanas,” she murmured, and the Queen went rigid. The woods around them went still, and in her belly stirred a faint sort of flutter that Jaina never could quite quell.

To speak the Queen’s True Name was not something Jaina did very lightly. There were not many still alive that knew it; no one short of her closest members of the Winter Court. To give it life was to give Jaina more power over the Queen than she knew what to do with.

Still, the trees did not rustle and the winds did not blow, and for an instant, the roots seemed inclined to fall away to dust. They didn’t, and instead the Queen peered down at her seriously, a cacophony of emotions roiling behind the steady blaze of her eyes.

“Sylvanas,” she said again, deep in her chest, and watched as the Queen shuddered.

“What do you ask of me, my sweet one?” the banshee rasped.

Taking in a ragged breath, Jaina looked up and held the Queen’s gaze. “Tell me,” she said, as her fingers danced over the tailored waistline of Sylvanas’ breeches. “Tell me if this is truly what you desire. I won’t ask you for this again if it isn’t.”

The silence that blanketed them was fraught with tension, but Jaina held in place between Sylvanas’ legs and stroked her hand slowly over clothed thighs. She leaned her cheek against the inside of one knee, nuzzling against the cool leather and breathing in the scent of something entirely celestial.

“Look at me.”

The languid command brought Jaina’s eyes back up over Sylvanas’ lithe form, ice and fire converging as the Queen spoke again. “I would not have allowed myself to remain in…” She made a show of glancing sidelong at her bound hands. “... _Such a bind_ if I did not wish it.”

Jaina puffed out a quiet laugh, shaking her head as she pressed a kiss along the inside of Sylvanas’ knee. “You’re certain?” she pressed, running her fingertips over the lacing of the Queen’s breeches and unravelling them slowly. “You need only say the word —”

“Trust in the words I speak now,” Sylvanas said, mild amusement in her eyes.

Beneath Jaina’s hands, the armour and leathers began to shimmer and melt away like silk across the banshee’s body, until she was bare and gleaming in moonlight. Spread out and languid against the roots and moss, peering up with the smug sort of expectation of a Queen.

Jaina’s eyes darkened, and her tongue ran a slow trail over her bottom lip as she savoured the sight. A flare of heat cut through her so sharply it nearly stung, and with the same heady, drink-glazed look, she began to caress the shapely lengths of Sylvanas’ legs. With soft open-mouthed kisses along one knee and then the other, she asked, “Do I have your word that you will behave?”

“Within reason,” came the haughty reply.

“Within _my_ reasons?”

Drolly, the Queen said, “Short of my untimely demise, little one, I daresay I have no expectations for having to defy you.”

Sea-roughened fingers pinched gently at her lover’s side, and Jaina smirked at the twitch it elicited. “How bold. How bratty.”

“I am no _brat_ ,” Sylvanas huffed, but settled once more.

Beneath her, the Queen kept her obedience; save for the slow build of growls and hisses that bubbled from her feral throat. Bound hands flexed and tugged restlessly against the roots, and once more Jaina ceased her touches to peer up at Sylvanas. Resting her hands along trembling thighs, she cooed, “Are you behaving, my heart?”

Sylvanas’ eyes blazed, a vibrant spark of red amidst the dark night. The deadly edge of fangs gleamed in moonlight as she spoke between gritted teeth. “Do these constitute as touches, or am I to be toyed with further?”

Jaina smiled wickedly, the bright blue of her own eyes flashing as she scraped her nails idly along twitching muscles, lingering along the seam of the banshee’s hips. Gilded hair spilt over her shoulder with a sly tilt of her head. “Have I not endured your _toying_ the same, O Queen?” She slid one hand along the spread of fine hair that led from the Sylvanas’ navel down between strong thighs, spanning her grip possessively there.

“I don’t quite remember your complaints at the time,” the Queen drawled, flexing her wrists against the unrelenting grip of the tree roots. She glanced up at them with a mild scowl, but Jaina knew that the Queen could verily uproot the forest around them if she wished.

With selfish pleasure, she nipped and kissed and sucked, until the skin beneath her touch bloomed in pretty shades of bruises, laving her tongue over the most vicious of teeth marks and grinning at the taut sound of need it brought forth from the Queen.

To appease Sylvanas’ restless twitching and to satisfy her own growing desires, Jaina slid her hand up along one inner thigh. Gliding her touch in the barest whisper over flushed slick folds, she smiled at the undulating roll that followed. “Have patience,” she soothed, kissing the sharp jut of a hip bone once more.

Above her, the Queen growled; a low sound of impatience that carried through the clearing. The roots groaned and creaked, straining as they were tugged and yanked.

Resting a hand on the closest root, Jaina soothed it with a gentle squeeze, humming and cooing as the trees groaned and rustled eagerly at her touch.

Sylvanas gave a petulant huff. “The forest isn't the one _bound_ to your whims, Jaina.”

She chuckled, stroking her hand still along the gnarled root that bloomed fresh with moss beneath her hold. “It deserves some recognition for daring to defy its master, no?”

“And would I deserve such a caress for _defying_ you?”

Jaina smiled a feline smile. “Am I your _master_ now?”

Sylvanas peered down at her with an unreadable expression, the hard line of an elegant jaw visible in the moonlight. It was a bristling moment of tension; Jaina braced herself for the bare of fanged teeth and the hiss of reproach. Instead, the Faerie Queen laid back once more, melting back against the moss.

Jaina blinked with pleasant surprise. “My,” she breathed, stroking her hands along Sylvanas' thighs. “So well-behaved.”

“Is this not the _obedience_ you asked of me?”

Jaina pressed her lips against Sylvanas’ skin, kissing and mouthing the myriad of scars forming her beloved Queen. “Do you not _want_ to obey me, my twilight queen?” She traced her fingers along a trim waist and reached one hand to tease a nipple. Rising off her knees and straddling the banshee, she reached down with her other hand to cup Sylvanas’ damp sex.

The touch alone elicited a sharp hiss, followed quickly by a wild buck of impatient hips, and Jaina cooed at her. “Do you not wish for my _worship_ and _praise_?”

A shudder rode up over Sylvanas’ body and came out in her words as she spoke. “Am I m-meant to _beg_ for your touch, then?”

“I only asked you a question,” Jaina replied, a slow smile of amusement forming on her lips. She rolled her fingers _just so_ and watched as Sylvanas’ jaw tightened. “But the notion is tempting.”

“A Queen does not _beg_.”

“Does she perhaps say _please_?”

It came without hesitation or contempt. “ _Please_.”

A warm and liquid thrill rose through her, and Jaina kissed Sylvanas deeply; sweetly as she slid her fingers along plush folds and pressed them inside. She moaned as slick fluttering walls gave way to her touch, squeezing tight over her fingers as she swallowed away gasps and hisses and whines. Two fingers down to the third knuckle, held in place until the desperate seize of Sylvanas’ inner walls eased around them.

She pulled her mouth away with an approving hum, planting the softest of touches and the most wicked flashes of teeth along the taut line of the Queen’s neck. Her eyes, heady though they were; glazed with such a vibrant, desperate need for the banshee, opened and marvelled at the sight of silvery hair spread over moss green. At the sight of that elegant, elven face and its delicate features pulled tight and agonised in pleasure and relief all at once.

Sylvanas arched against her, a low bubbling hiss building her throat as strong arms pulled taut at the roots. Muscles bulged and strained, veins showing clear beneath her skin, and Jaina forgot the need to breathe at the sight. Her eyes fell to the dark and lingering mark of teeth along the Queen’s neck; the corresponding mating bite on her own neck pulsing at the memory of the night they were bound as one.

It was a painting come to life; a portrait of something indescribably bewitching.

Beneath her, she could feel the tightening of core muscles, a solid plane of steel that trembled and shivered in time with her finger’s delicate movements. “With me?” she asked gently, reaching out her other hand to cup Sylvanas’ cheek.

Blazing eyes slit open above ruddy cheeks as Sylvanas’ hips gave a slow roll against her fingers. On a breathless gasp, the Queen replied, “Yes. Now _move_.”

“Greedy,” Jaina laughed, giving the Sylvanas’ cheek a daring pinch before moving with earnest. She spread her fingers and crooked them, thrusting deep and curling tight; all of the ways she knew that would pull the wanton keens and sighs she loved hearing from the Queen’s sweet lips.

She worked at a slow and meticulous pace, making languid passes with her lips across Sylvanas’ cheek and gasping mouth. Tasting shades of moonlight and steel as she crooked her fingers and pressed her thumb steadily in a circle around the swell of Sylvanas’ clit.

“I bless the Tides each moment I have you with me,” she whispered, an adoration blooming in her chest with such an intensity it nearly caught in her throat. “To have you beneath me here, like this; I would pull the stars from the night sky and weave them into a crown for you.”

Sylvanas made a low groan, hands flexing helplessly as her hips took on a desperate grind into Jaina’s fingers. “Do I not — already wear a crown, Sweet Daughter?”

“You deserve the moon and the stars with it.”

“I deserve _release_ ,” Sylvanas growled, lean thighs clamping tight around Jaina’s hand, but the Daughter of the Sea calmed her with a hiss, pressing a palm down firmly against her heaving chest.

With their lips a breath apart, Jaina promised, “You will have it, my gilded Queen. Have patience.”

Sylvanas made a low whine in her throat. “ _Jaina_.”

“I have you,” she whispered, caressing one long ear. Squeezing at the base and gliding her fingers up over the sensitive tip as it shivered at her touch. With both hands moving as one, Jaina leaned down and kissed Sylvanas again; slow and deep until she felt the telltale tightening of muscles around her fingers.

Pressing the tip of her tongue against the razor edge of a fang, Jaina crooked her fingers viciously, rolling her thumb in an unrelenting pace around Sylvanas’ clit. The taste of blood bloomed between their lips as the Queen bit down on reflex, and a low groan built into a vicious growl as Sylvanas shuddered into her release.

Jaina gasped as Sylvanas tore her lips away with a snarl, watching through a heady glaze as she threw her head back and trembled, the tendons of her elegant neck taut. She looked resplendent in moonlight, and Jaina worked her tirelessly through it.

“Just like that,” Jaina whispered, leaning forward to pin Sylvanas in place, rolling her own hips and grinding down to ease the building agony between her thighs. “There you are, my heart. Good girl.”

She coaxed Sylvanas through her release, gentling her touch when she knew it to be too much; resting her fingers against rippling walls instead. When their tight clutch of her hand eased, Jaina pulled them out carefully, hushing the low hiss that came in their wake.

Lifting her hand to the moonlight, she hummed at the glossy sheen of them before licking them clean. The heady taste flooded her mouth, salt and a sharp flavour of something she had no memory of tasting anywhere else.

The roots groaned overhead, and Jaina looked up in time to watch them split and snap beneath a mighty surge of strength. Bindings unwound, Sylvanas sat up with a growl, eyes like dancing flames. The growl rumbled in her throat as she toppled them both into the grass.

Tendrils unfurled in a dark plume of mist behind the Faerie Queen, and Jaina felt a deep thrill go through her.

Caught as she was in the sights and sounds and scents of the banshee, Jaina had little thought for her own arousal. But pinned now as she was, the looming presence of Sylvanas over her, she looked and felt herself ache.

The coil of several tendrils weaving around her body made Jaina gasp. She squirmed and writhed, eyes hooded low as she stared up at Sylvanas with delight. “Was it not to your liking, my Queen?”

“Quite an impressive performance,” Sylvanas rasped, planting hungry and welting kisses along her neck. “A lovely moment to cherish, my sweetling.” She slid one hand over Jaina’s breast and pinched a nipple with strength just shy of hurtful. “Perhaps a bit smug.”

Jaina let out a breathless laugh that melted away into a moan as two tendrils wriggled their way between her legs. “You _have_ been very good,” she said, pulling the Queen down for a kiss. “I daresay that calls for a reward.”

“I daresay the correct term is  _retaliation_.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm splitting this in two bc I like to edge ppl


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